


Crash

by monicawoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Horror, Insanity, Psychological Horror, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Season/Series 07, Superpowers, psychic powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the ohsam Sam-focused hurt/comfort fic challenge.</p><p>For this prompt :</p><p>Gen, s7. The breaking of the Wall let out a lot of things better left alone, memories not the greatest of them. Sam's powers come flooding back, more powerful and violent than ever, warped and twisted by his time in Hell. And with Satan vision playing on repeat overtop of everything he sees, he's having trouble discerning friend from foe, threat from civilian... and Lucifer used Dean's face a lot, in the Pit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam had been fighting. He'd been anything but passive since his Hell-wall came tumbling apart. He could feel his sanity slipping. He could feel himself getting worse and he fought, he fought _so_ damn hard to get better.

In an ironic twist, his memories of his soulless year were actually some of the most helpful tools he had at his disposable. Amidst all the remorseless killings, a year of hunting without hesitation, without pity, there was an incredibly pure, remarkably strong will for survival. Some base animal need to keep living. He could call on that need, he could force himself to shut everything out and focus on that. He could bring his splintered vision to heel and force his senses back into the confines of reality...but it was getting harder. Every day, it got harder.

He and Dean were better than they'd been in a while. They were united, and trying their damnedest to keep going despite everything -- Castiel, Amy, the Leviathans. They were doing well too until the night of the crash.

It was the damnedest thing, really. They were tired. They were _both_ tired. They were trying to get back to Rufus's cabin to meet up with Bobby after traveling four states away on a hunt. Bobby called them and said he needed their help so they drove quickly, and they drove long hours -- longer than they should have. Sam had asked Dean if they shouldn't pull over and rest for a few hours. Dean almost agreed, but his face twitched briefly, shadowed with guilt and he'd said, _"No Sammy, it's okay, I'm good. We gotta get to Bobby. It's just ten more hours."_

The deer came out of nowhere. It was so dark...the road they were on was surrounded by nothing but trees. Dean swerved at the last moment, and didn't see the truck coming around the bend. He couldn't have seen it.

They were lucky really. The Impala flipped over onto the side of the road, but the trees kept her from rolling too far down. They were lucky, but they'd both been injured. Sam opened his eyes and saw Dean, bleeding from his temple. He called out for him, tried to free him from the seatbelt wrapped around his arm and his throat, but when he reached for him, his head _hurt_ , it pounded and echoed and felt like it was leaking and then everything went black.

It might have been a concussion. It might have been swelling. It didn't really matter. Sam's skull had taken far too many beatings over the years, and his brain wasn't healthy for a whole myriad of reasons. The crash _changed_ him. He was aware of it sometimes. Other times, he couldn't really tell, and he didn't really care.

Lucifer thought it was all hilarious. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sam sleep and grinned when he opened his eyes. Sam closed his eyes again more often than not, wishing the Devil away, but he never left, never, never, never. He was infinitely patient. He always had been.

 _"How long are you gonna lay there, Sammy?"_ Lucifer asked on Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday. Sam wasn't sure what day it was anymore. He thought he remembered Dean saying it was Monday though...and that hadn't been too long ago, so -- __

_"This is pathetic. Get up."_

Sam had to unstick his tongue, and wet his lips before he could speak, which meant he was dehydrated, probably. Maybe he'd been sleeping for more than a day. "If I get up, will you go away?"

Lucifer laughed.  _"Sam. You know the answer to that. I'll never go away. It's you and me. Forever."_

Sam wasn't surprised, he wasn't even angry anymore really. He knew what he had to do. He had to just _focus_ on what was real and then Lucifer would fade away. He had to remind himself, _ground_ himself.

He sat up and instantly regretted it as his vision swam. Concussion then. He looked around the room he was in slowly, trying not to make the dizziness any worse. It wasn't Rufus's cabin. It was a hotel room of some sort, but nicer than they're usual fare.

 _"Yeah. Dean went all out."_ Lucifer cocked his head.  _"Such a sweet, thoughtful guy."_

Sam gingerly moved his legs and turned around so they were hanging off the edge of the bed. He felt like he was going to throw up for a few seconds, closed his eyes, realized that only made it worse, opened them again and brought the room back into focus. He stood up, and put his hand on the wall.

 _"Remember Detroit, Sam? Remember right after you said 'yes'?"_   Lucifer stood right behind Sam, whispering in his head. _"Remember how **good** it felt? How **strong** you were?"_

Sam laughed angrily. "No. It felt horrible."

Lucifer scoffed.  _"Right. That's why you dream about it so often. Why you dream about me, about what we could have been..."_

"Shut up!" Sam snapped. "You're not real, and I don't want to hear this, so just _shut_ up." He kept pushing himself along the wall and made it to the door of the little bathroom.

 _"It's still in you, you know. That power, that strength,"_ Lucifer said.  _"I'm still in you. I always will be."_

Sam moved towards the sink and turned on the faucet. He let the cold water run over the insides of his wrists. It felt good, it felt _real_. He leaned forward, cupped his hands together and brought the cold water up to his face over and over again. He stood back up, looked in the mirror and froze.

  
\------

  
Dean couldn't open the door quickly enough. He'd had a horrible feeling all the way back from the drugstore. He hadn't wanted to leave Sam by himself, but he had to go get supplies. He needed more bandages and more painkillers. He threw the door open and felt his heart go into overdrive. Sam's bed was empty.

"Sam?" he called out. "Sammy?"

He heard the sound of glass shattering and ran to the bathroom, dropping the bag of supplies on the floor.

Sam was on the floor in the bathroom, knees drawn up, clutching his head and whispering to himself.

The mirror was shattered -- shards of it all over the counter, in the sink, on the floor.

"Sammy?" Dean said again, quietly. He reached for Sam's hand. "You okay?"

 _"No, no, no, no."_ Sam whispered, over and over, pressing his head down further between his knees.

"It's okay, Sammy. What happened?"

Sam's head snapped up. "No. You don't get to use his face. Not him. Not again. Not again."

Dean would've said something, anything, to convince Sam he was really Dean, and not whatever Sam was seeing, but he couldn't get a word out. He couldn't do anything but stare at Sam's eyes. They were pitch black. Sam grabbed Dean and growled at him. "Not him. Not his face. Not his voice. Not him. Not again. I won't let you."

Dean tried to tell him, he _tried_ but he couldn't. He _couldn't_. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He tried to get up, but he _couldn't_. His body was locked into place. He started trembling as understanding hit him. _Sam wouldn't let him speak. Sam wouldn't let him move._

"You can do whatever you want to me. Slice me into pieces, throw me back into the flames, feed me my heart, but you will _never_ get to use his face again, you hear me?" Sam snarled the last few words, and Dean felt his skin tear. He could feel blood run down his temple, out of his ears, out of his eyes. He didn't understand what was happening exactly, but he understood enough. Sam was _pissed_ and his mojo had come flaring back to life and right now it was trying to tear him apart.

 _Sam,_  he thought desperately. _Sammy, please. It's me, don't do this._

Sam glared at him and brought his hand up to Dean's face.

Dean had the horrible thought that Sam would try to pull the rest of his skin off of his skull. He closed his eyes for lack of anything better to do.

Then he heard Sam suck in a sharp breath. He opened his eyes again and found Sam staring at his own fingers. Sam's hands were blood slicked. Dean looked around and saw a whole cluster of the mirror shards on the floor next to where Sam was sitting. There was blood on some of them. Sam had cut himself on the shards.

 _"I didn't..."_ Sam whispered.  _"I didn't. I don't --"_ His head whipped around, and he stared out the bathroom door at something only he could see and hear.

  
\------

  
Lucifer was leaning against the door frame. He didn't look like Dean anymore, he didn't look like Nick -- he looked like he had in Stull Cemetery. He looked like Sam.

Sam stood up and walked towards Lucifer. "I didn't drink any blood. I _didn't_."

Lucifer smirked.  _"You sure?"_ He shook his head.  _"Your hands look pretty red to me, but then what do I know?"_

Sam shook his head vehemently. "No. I didn't. I haven't. Not since Detroit. Not since --"

 _"Can I ask you something?"_ Lucifer cut him off. _"Would it matter if you had? I mean really -- you think you're less of a freak, less of a _monster_ because you haven't had any _more_ blood to drink? Your brother just saw you with black eyes. You were peeling off his skin with your _mind_ and you're worried about whether or not you drank some blood?"_

Sam stared at Lucifer, stared at himself, for a few more seconds and then turned back to the bathroom. Dean was there, sitting on the floor, and he was bleeding. Christ, he was _bleeding_.

Sam ran to Dean and fell to his knees next to him. "Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth, and coughed blood. Then, with relief, he said, "Yeah Sammy. It's me. You okay?"

Sam looked over his shoulder, but Lucifer was gone. He turned back to Dean. "No. No I'm _not_ okay." Tears ran down Sam's cheek as he grabbed Dean's face, trying to see all the damage he'd caused, "I -- shit Dean, I did this to you." He sat on the floor and backed against the wall across from Dean. "You need to go. I'm not -- I'm not _safe._ "

Dean coughed again, and smiled. "Sam. I'm not going anywhere."

It was all Sam could do to keep from sobbing. Dean's teeth were covered in blood, and his face, his _face_ was covered in gashes and it was all because of him, and he just couldn't...

"Sammy..." Dean said, trying to get Sam to look him in the eyes. Sam was looking away from him, his shoulders trembling. His eyes were green again though, and that was what mattered. He'd be fine, they'd be fine, they just had to take it easy for a few days and they'd be --

  
\------

  
Dean woke up hazy. Panic flooded him quickly though and cleared the grogginess away. He remembered Sam, and the look in his eyes. He sat up and looked around the room. The other bed was empty. The room was empty. Sam was gone.

  
\------

  
Sam had been fighting. He'd been fighting this for so long, and he'd been doing pretty well, all things considered.

After the crash though, he couldn't...he just couldn't pull himself back down anymore. He'd hurt Dean. He'd _hurt_ him, and he'd thought it was Lucifer, and he just _couldn't_.

There was one thing he could do. He could run. He could get away, he could find somewhere, somewhere away from people, somewhere hidden where nobody would find him. He could hide and he could try to keep fighting, but he wouldn't risk Dean. He wouldn't risk hurting him again.

Sam's feet hit the ground over and over as he ran. He ran deeper into the woods, kept going until he couldn't hear the road anymore. All he heard was the pounding of his feet...and Lucifer. The Devil was keeping pace with him. He could hear him laughing, he could hear him whispering, _"You can't outrun me Sam. You can't outrun yourself. You can't fight me forever. Just stop, just stop."_

He wouldn't stop though. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't. Because if he did, then Lucifer was right, and then...then he _wouldn't stop._


	2. Burn

Sam ran until the last traces of daylight were swallowed up by the dense forest. He stopped to catch his breath whenever the dizziness and nausea overtook him, and then pushed himself forward again as soon as he could see straight. He kept going, as quickly as he could, until his legs collapsed with exertion. Finally he fell by a large, ancient tree and landed in a blanket of pine needles, soft with age. He fell asleep to the sound of Lucifer laughing.

After a night blessedly free of dreams, Sam woke to the sound of leaves rustling near by. He sat up, eyes darting everywhere, but the only motion he could see was a trio of squirrels, chasing each other across the ground. He stood up and wished he'd taken water or some kind of food with him. He was so thirsty. His only thought had to been to get away from Dean as quickly as he could, and to make sure he couldn't be found. He hadn't taken anything with him -- no phone, no change of clothing, no water...

Sam started walking again, slightly downhill, and tried to figure out where he was. He was somewhere in the north -- the huge region of forest indicated in green he remembered seeing the last time he'd looked at a map of Idaho. That meant he'd be mostly alone, except for the occasional errant hiker. He'd have to make sure to stay away from any well traveled paths, but he had to find water, and he had to find food. If he followed the terrain carefully enough, he'd be able to find a stream, assuming there was one nearby. He stood perfectly still and listened, hoping he'd pick up the sound of trickling water.

 _"So...this is your plan then?"_ Lucifer asked. He was leaning against a tree ahead of Sam, and he was still wearing Sam's face. _"You're gonna what...stay out here and be one with nature? Something as unnatural as you?"_

Sam ignored the Devil, and kept walking. The ground started angling downhill, which was a good sign. He stopped again, listened and turned a bit more to the north.

 _"You ever wonder how different your life would have been if you'd just let me fight Michael that day at Stull?_ " Lucifer asked.

"No," Sam muttered.

_"We would've won, you know." Lucifer walked next to Sam, matching his steps. He was wearing what Sam had worn that day in Detroit -- the day he'd said 'yes'. "Michael didn't stand a chance. Not in that little half-breed brat."_

"Adam was my brother too, you know," Sam snapped.

_"He didn't feel that way about you. He didn't give a crap about you."_

"Of course not. It doesn't matter, doesn't change anything." Sam looked up to his right. He thought he'd heard something -- something that sounded suspiciously like water dripping.

_"The fight would have lasted a few minutes at most. We would have won Sam. Do you have any idea what that even means?"_

"The destruction of the planet? The end of the human race?"

 _"No."_ Lucifer let out a weary sigh.  _"No, Sam. I would have given you whatever you wanted. I never lied to you, you know that. I would have kept my word."_

The sound Sam had heard was getting more distinct. He walked faster, hoping he'd be able to get a drink of water soon.

 _"Well what do you know..."_ Lucifer said, voicing the surprise Sam felt.

The sound of dripping water was coming from a spigot attached to a small well. Sam rushed to the spigot, turned on the water and cupped his hands underneath. He drank in the cool water, and for a moment felt such relief that he forgot about his constant companion (real or not).

_"You know, going without water wouldn't actually kill you. You just think it would."_

Sam ground his teeth together in irritation before spitting out, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

 _"I mean, you'd get dehydrated, and it'd be uncomfortable, but it wouldn't kill you."_ Lucifer laughed, _"Sam. You really think I'd let you die from something as mundane as 'lack of water'?"_

"Let me..." Sam stopped mid-sentence when he saw that about twenty feet away from him, partially hidden behind a few more trees, was a cabin -- an actual log-cabin. It looked abandoned from here, entrance overgrown and dark, but it would be excellent shelter.

 _"Plus, when you do die...you'll just end up back home with me."_ Lucifer crouched next to Sam and grinned at him. _"That'll be nice. It's so boring down here without you."_

Sam got up and started walking towards the door. "You're not-- you're in my head, you're not real." He walked through the cabin entrance to find Lucifer sitting in a chair by a small table.

 _"Right. You keep telling yourself that."_ Lucifer tilted his head and shifted back into Nick, _"Is this better? Does it help if I don't keep reminding you that we're one and the same?"_

Sam ignored Lucifer and walked through the cabin checking to see if there was anything of use inside. There was a bed with a very worn, very thin mattress and sheets that were covered in dust, fur and other things. Animals had been here, probably often. That didn't mean Sam wouldn't take advantage of the bed. He'd just have to clean off the mattress first.

The roof was intact mostly, except for one corner in the back. The floor had a few holes, but they could be easily avoided. Sam even found a pile of firewood in the back corner, and incredibly, a few other supplies that looked mostly untouched -- a huge, half-full box of matches, some rope, and a small camp stove. Sam smiled and crouched down to have a closer look at the stove.

_"Now if you only had something to eat."_

Sam's stomach growled in agreement.

\------

"What else am I supposed to do, Bobby?" Dean yelled.

"Hell if I know, kid." Bobby sighed. "Guess you're right. We've tried everything else." He stood up and went over to the boxes he had stacked in the back of the living room. "It's probably somewhere in one of these three boxes. It'll go faster if you help me look."

Dean and Bobby spent the next hour digging through the boxes filled with various copies of spell-books Bobby had saved. They needed a tracking spell. Dean had been looking for Sam for nearly three days with no luck. Sam had left his cell-phone, he'd left everything behind and he'd knocked Dean out, mind-whammied him -- Dean remembered with a shudder, before running off.

"I think I found somethin'," Bobby said, holding up a page.

\------

Sam sat in front of the cabin on the chair and stared out into the trees. From what he could tell, the waves of dizziness he'd been having after the crash seemed to have stopped. He hadn't had one all day at any rate, but his hallucinations were still weaving in and out of his mind -- faster than usual.

He stared at the trees and he knew they weren't burning, but that didn't make the flames he saw seem any less real. He focused desperately on the few logical arguments he had against what his crumbling mind was making him see. There were flames, but he felt no heat. The trees looked they were burning -- bark charring, leaves turning to ash -- but the air smelled clean. Sam closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, concentrating on the clean scent of the air. When he opened them again, the flames were gone.

 _"Goodie for you,"_ said Lucifer, in Nick's voice.  _"Now what?"_

"Now," Sam said, standing, "I'm going to try to find something edible before it gets too dark."

Lucifer's peals of laughter followed him into the trees.

\------

Hours later, Sam trudged back to the cabin with a meager collection of berries and nuts. He was glad he'd learned what was edible and what wasn't when he was little. It was one of Dad's lessons that had come in handy more times than he could count.

 _"What a feast!"_ Lucifer snickered.  _"I'll go set the table."_

Sam ate half of what he'd found and saved the rest. His stomach gurgled, unsatisfied and he frowned, trying to think of something he could do to take his mind off of his gnawing hunger. He built a fire and sat next to it, warming his hands. He thought about Dean -- tried not to think about Dean frantically searching for him and instead focused on the most important part -- Dean was safe. He still didn't quite understand what had happened back in the hotel room, but he knew he'd been the one who hurt Dean.

Lucifer sat down next to him, stuck his hand into the flames and said, _"Go ahead, ask."_

"What I did to Dean...I did that with..." Sam swallowed. "My powers were gone. I haven't had any blood, so how --"

 _"Sam."_ Lucifer sighed heavily.  _"It was never the blood. You know that, on some level, don't you?"_ Lucifer grabbed a twig from the fire and held it in front of Sam's eyes. The twig was smoldering, sending little puffs of smoke into the dusk. _"The blood made your body stronger, so I wouldn't burn through you, but it's not where your power comes from."_

Sam shook his head. "Even if that's true...I never did anything like that, I never --"

_"Since your injury, you've felt different, right? A little more off, even for you?"_

Sam nodded, bitterly.

 _"Your mind has what...two centuries worth of memories in it?"_ Lucifer smirked, _"Most of them of the good times we had together."_ The twig in his hand started to flicker and a tiny flame licked at the top of it. _"You don't have room to compartmentalize everything. Before Hell, you had everything you hated about yourself pushed down, buried deep -- where you didn't have to look at it, where you didn't have to deal with it."_ The flame on the tip of the twig grew and spread downward. _"Then, you and I had a lot of quality time together, you came back up here with a tiny little filter in place that ruptured thanks to your idiot friend, and everything came pouring out. The crash bounced your brain around. It jumbled everything together and now..."_ The twig went up in flame and the fire reached out past it, wrapping itself around Lucifer's arm. _"...now you don't have any room in there to bury anything. Everything that makes you you is just floating free. Your power, your gift is out in the open and there's nothing you can do to make it go away."_

"Gift." Sam scoffed. "Hell of a gift."

Lucifer grinned.  _"Of course it is. It was my gift."_

Sam stared at him, and started laughing -- loudly, hysterically.

Lucifer's grin faltered.  _"What's so funny?"_

Sam's laughter turned into a growl. "You're not real. I'm just -- I'm just talking to myself! I'm a goddamn lunatic, sitting out here in the woods, talking to myself!"

Lucifer stared at Sam, blinked, and nodded.  _"And this is news, somehow...?"_

Sam stood up and stomped off towards the trees. He couldn't go far -- it was too dark to see, but he had to get away from...himself, even if it was all in his head.

Standing at the edge of the denser part of the forest behind the cabin, Sam's stomach started growling again. He scrunched his eyes closed and tried to will himself to stop thinking about food. He kept thinking about all the disgusting diner food, and the less disgusting but still heart-endangering non-diner food Dean had insisted on eating. Especially the meat. He kept thinking of hamburger, and steak...he didn't even usually want meat, but his body was in desperate need of protein. He took a deep breath and tried to think of something else. Turning back towards the cabin he considered eating a few more of the nuts he'd found. He'd wanted to save them for tomorrow morning, but maybe just a few more--

There was a sound behind him. A branch snapped, leaves rustled, and Sam turned to look for the cause of the sound. For a moment, he thought it was just his mind conjuring up something new and strangely fitting, but it was too awe-inspiring, too beautiful...he couldn't have made something like this up. An enormous stag was walking towards him, slowly. It was looking right at him, but didn't seem the least bit intimidated. Sam took a few steps back towards the fire, but the stag kept coming.

 _"See? Things are looking up,"_ Lucifer said. He was leaning against the doorway of the cabin, watching Sam.

Sam shook his head, confused.

_"Ask, and the universe will provide. It wants you to survive, Sam. It wants you to be happy. I want you to be happy."_

Sam turned back towards the stag and watched, fascinated, as it walked past Sam and towards his fire. "No..." Sam said, shaking himself out of his daze, "No! Stop!"

The stag stopped. It stopped walking as soon as it reached the fire. Then it went down on its knees and laid on top of the flames.


	3. Bleed

Sam sat on the chair outside of the cabin and carved.

Lucifer stood next to him, watching him work. " _That's actually quite beautiful. Exquisite craftsmanship. You should quit your day-job. Oh. Wait..._ "

Sam chuckled, turning the horn slightly to continue his carving "It's not half bad." He worked for a few more minutes, intensely focused, and finished the lettering.

" _The Lightbringer's fire burns cold,_ " Lucifer read and brought a hand to his heart. _"Sam, I'm touched, really. You actually remembered all my little nursery rhymes._ "

"You spoke to me in Enochian for eighty years. I guessed I picked some up."

" _Eighty-three, actually,_ " Lucifer said. " _So, what are you planning on doing with this little trinket?_ "

Sam stared up at him. "I hadn't really thought about it. It just...it felt like the right thing to do." He stood up and started walking towards the trees surrounding his cabin. His feet carried him forward, and he stopped by a large, old tree. He dropped the bone dagger into the leaves by his feet, pulled out his pocket knife, and started to carve into the bark.

\------

"Because that ain't how it works!" Bobby yelled, exasperated.

"Well then what good is it?" Dean yelled back.

"It'll tell you where he is within a few miles. That's the best we can do, but I'm tellin' you-- this might not work at all. These kinda spells...they're risky." Bobby eyed the page again and studied the ingredients on the table. They had everything. Well, almost everything. "He might know you're coming."

Dean pulled out his pocket-knife and sliced a shallow cut across his thumb. He squeezed a few drops of his blood into the bowl of herbs and looked over to Bobby. "How -- because of his powers?"

Bobby swallowed. "That too, but -- he might feel the spell. You're using your blood to find him. It doesn't get much more direct then that, metaphysically speaking."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Metaphysically, huh?"

Bobby glared at him and handed him the page describing the spell. "Quit gabbin' and get to chantin'."

\------

Sam started carving again and frowned at the weak sunlight. He looked up at the cloudy sky and wondered how much time he had before the rain started.

" _Guess you'll have to move your art-therapy session indoors for tonight, champ,_ " Lucifer said, standing up.

Sam folded his pocket-knife back up and was about head indoors when he saw two figures walking towards him.

\------

Dean drove as quickly as he could without attracting attention.

Idaho. Sam was in Idaho. He could be there with him in eight hours. Less, if he pushed.

\------

Sam woke up with a scream in his throat. He stared up at the ceiling of the cabin and tried to slow his heart down. His gut was churning, his mind was racing, trying to remind him of something, but he couldn't think of what. Someone had found him, and he'd been so angry, and then --

The ceiling above him caught fire and lit up the cabin with its bright glow.

"Sam," Jess said from above him. She looked down at him with sorrow. "Sam, what are you doing?"

Sam's voice wavered as he said, desperately, "Lucifer. Don't -- please, don't be her."

Lucifer's voice came from Sam's right. He was sitting on the floor playing with the box of matches. " _There you go again -- always blaming me for everything._ " He sighed. " _After everything I've done for you._ "

Jess smiled at Sam. "It's okay baby. You can't help it. You were just defending yourself."

Sam's head throbbed and he could feel memories trying to push forward but they didn't make any sense -- he just saw flashes, of Lilith, Alistair -- there was screaming and --

"It's not your fault," Jess said. Her hair was made of fire, as was her nightgown. The rest of her remained untouched, and she smiled down at Sam, serenely.

"Jess. I -- I don't remember. What did I do?"

The fire covered what was left of Jess and went out, but the ceiling wasn't empty. Someone was still there.

Sam stared up into the dark, but couldn't see who it was. It was a woman, he thought -- smaller than Jess. He startled as something dripped on his forehead. He reached up with his thumb, swiped at the wet spot and brought it down to his lips. He shuddered at the taste and whispered, "Ruby."

"Sam," Ruby said, from above him. "I'm so proud of you."

More drops fell from above, landing on Sam's cheek, his nose, his mouth...he kept thinking he should move, but he couldn't -- or he didn't want to. He stared up into the dark, trying to make out Ruby's face.

"Go back to sleep Sam. It's all gonna be okay." Her voice was close, so much closer.

Sam reached up and felt her. She was hovering above him, a foot away at most. He ran his fingers through her hair, and tried to wrap his arms around her, tried to pull her down towards him. He felt something, he felt flesh and then it came apart. It all came apart and blood poured over him. It ran over his legs, his chest, his face and he screamed, and he didn't understand, he just...didn't.

\------

Dean ran through the forest as quickly as he could. He had to find Sam, quick. The spell had shown him where to go -- he'd have to do a real thorough search when he got there, he had a lot of ground to cover, but at least he had a goal.

He ran for hours as the dawn turned into bright daylight. He didn't stop running until he smelled smoke.

\------

Sam felt like he'd been arguing with the Devil, _with himself_ , since he'd woken up. He was still sitting on the bed, picking at the deerskin cover he'd made for the mattress, and he was getting more aggravated by the minute.

" _You really don't remember?_ " Lucifer asked as he shifted out of Nick's form. He looked like Sam again, but he was covered in blood -- the stains were so dark they were black.

Sam stood up, walked over to Lucifer, and glared at him. "At least clean up."

Lucifer raised his hands, his bloody hands, up in a defensive gesture. " _Hey -- don't get mad at me. I'm just a mirror. This is all you, kiddo._ "

Sam looked down at himself. His shirt was as soaked as Lucifer's. So were his hands. His legs gave out and he fell on the floor. He clutched at his hair and said, "I don't remember, why don't I remember?"

" _Because you don't want to. Except then again, maybe you do. Part of you does, or..._ " he gestured at himself, " _I wouldn't look like Carrie._ "

A piercing headache flared through Sam, and he rubbed at his temple. "There were two people. A couple." Sam could see their faces -- two hikers, in their twenties. The girl had her hair in braids and the guy had been wearing glasses. "They -- they wanted to stay here because of the rain." Sam put his hand on the floor and pushed himself back into a crouch, then stood up and started pacing. "Then I..."

Lucifer walked past Sam and out of the cabin. Sam followed him, with a sinking feeling. Lucifer walked to the side of the cabin and stopped, standing next to a pile of dirt.

"I invited them in, but then--" Sam doubled over in pain and hissed, "It was Lilith...and Alistair!" Sam remembered. He remembered their eyes changing. White, empty, wicked eyes and he'd been so angry.

" _You killed both of them. Do you remember when you killed them? Back in that meat packing plant, back at the chapel?_ "

Sam shook his head, "Yes, I -- but they said -- they said, if I could keep coming back from the dead, why couldn't they? They said they were back and they were going to kill me and then Dean, and then I..." Sam felt his hands clench into fists, "I killed them. I lit them up from the inside, but they didn't die..."

" _That's right, they didn't. What did you do then, Sam?_ " Lucifer started nudging the pile of dirt with his foot.

The soil shifted every time Lucifer kicked the pile. Sam walked closer to it and crouched down. He started pushing the dirt aside with his hands -- his bloody hands. "I ripped their heads off, I tore them apart, but they kept talking, they kept laughing, even after I burned them," Sam dug through the soil, flinging handfuls of it to the side until he felt something solid, "...so I buried them back here."

\------

Dean followed the smell of smoke for what felt like an hour, but he never found the source. He tried to call Bobby but couldn't get a signal. Of course he couldn't get a signal -- not out here.

He felt like he was going crazy. He wasn't imagining the smell, but he couldn't find it. He slumped against a tree, exhausted and closed his eyes -- just for a second. When he opened his eyes again, he saw something in the bark, right below his arm. He took a step back and stared. His name had been carved into the tree, along with an arrow pointing straight down. He crouched down and moved his fingers through the pile of leaves at the bottom of the tree until his fingers touched bone.

When Dean stood up again, moments later, he was somewhere else entirely.

\------

Sam pulled at the rounded, large lump he found buried in the soil. He pulled it free and turned away from the smell. It was overwhelmingly rancid. He turned back and tilted his head, looking at the black ooze crusted around the neck. "This -- this isn't human."

Lucifer laughed. " _No. They're not human. Then again, neither are you._ "

\------

Dean blinked in confusion and took a few steps back. He was standing next to a trailer. After a few steps he saw that it wasn't just a trailer, it was "Doug's Fish & Chips & Pop."

"Dean," said a familiar voice.

Dean turned and sat down across from Death. "You brought me here?"

Death took a sip of his drink and looked up at Dean. "Yes."

Dean fought back the urge to yell at the Horsemen. "Why?"

"I am neither a messenger boy nor a livery service, but I feel inclined to play both roles at this moment."

Glaring angrily at the table so he wouldn't say something stupid, Dean instead said, calmly, "I was trying to find Sam."

"Yes, but your brother doesn't want to be found. You would have spent days -- weeks -- running around in circles and you would have never found him. I have more important work for you to do than that."

Restraint forgotten, Dean snapped, "You have work for me? Like you had work for me when you told me to figure out the deal with Purgatory? That turned out great."

Death took a bite of his breaded fish and chewed it thoughtfully, before answering. "Despite your dismal failure, I'm willing to give you another task. Be grateful."

Dean was too stunned to answer.

After another long sip of soda, Death continued, "Your brother is much better off than I expected, in many ways."

"Well, he's not exactly a drooling mess, but he's --" Dean laughed bitterly, "he's not good.

Death nodded. "He's dangerous, and only occasionally aware of his surroundings, but he's also a very valuable asset."

"Asset?"

"For the last twelve hours, give or take, Sam has been beating himself up because he's convinced he killed two innocent hikers that found his hiding spot." Death folded his hands together.

"So...he didn't kill two innocent hikers?" Dean asked.

"No. He killed two Leviathans." Death said. Raising a long, bony finger, he pointed at Dean and added. "He also gave you a weapon. It won't kill them, but it will paralyze them. Long enough for you to chop off their heads, should you have an axe handy."

Dean reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the little bone dagger he'd found by the tree. "What do you want me to do?"

Death smiled. "I want you to be bait."

"Come again?"

"I know you. You won't stay away from your brother." Death nodded at him, "So, don't."

"I don't -- "

"The Leviathans are going to come after you both, especially when they catch the scent of their siblings' burned flesh. Some of them are in town right now. Stay nearby, wait for them to find you, head back into the forest -- as close as Sam will let you get to him, and..." Death gestured with a french fry, "the issue will resolve itself."

Dean stared at Death for a few seconds, nodded, and said "Okay."


End file.
